The voice sends a tremor of unease through me. It’s deep and powerful, a predator’s voice. It sounds exactly like the man in the corner looks.
Evilin’s reply is sharp and cold, cutting through the air. “You’ll get what you’re owed.”
A dark chuckle slithers down the corridor, a sound devoid of all humor that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. “I don’t think you understand. I’ve decided your debt can only be paid one way.” A beat of silence hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. “I’m taking the girl.”
My blood turns to ice.The girl. He’s talking about me. And the man Evilin owes a debt to, the man Emily warned me about, the man who drowns people and laughs... it has to be him. The realization hits me not as a thought, but as a full-body conviction. It’s Kaden Prince.
A gasp escapes my lips, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, my heart seizing in my chest.
“No,” Evilin retorts, a strange fury in her voice.
“I see the hatred in your eyes when you look at her. I’ll be doing you a favor. I’m taking her off your hands.”
“You don’t have that right!”
There’s a tense shuffle, then a heavy thump against the wall that makes me jump. The man’s voice, now a menacing purr, responds. “Evilin. Try and stop me.”
The threat is not a question. It is a statement of fact. He is not asking for me. He is taking me. Panic, pure and undiluted, floods my veins. I have to get out. Not later. Now.
I slip back into the ballroom, my mind a chaotic swirl. I force a smile, nodding at guests as I make my way toward the main entrance, my steps quickening with every foot. The moment I’m through the doors and out of sight of the guards, I break into a desperate run. My gown billows behind me, a flash of yellow against the frozen night as I flee into the darkness, trading one monster for another.
Two
Kaden
TheclickofEvilin’sheels is a faint, irritating sound in the distance, but the blood roaring in my ears drowns it out.My world has narrowed to a single, searing point of focus: the ghost of a girl in a yellow dress disappearing down the corridor.
Wynter Blanc.
The name is a brand on my consciousness. Before tonight, she was a rumor, a footnote in the Blanc family file. Now, she is an obsession. The moment she appeared at the top of that staircase, something dormant and dangerous inside me awoke. A primal, possessive instinct I had buried years ago clawed its way to the surface. The debt Evilin owed me ceased to be about money. It was now about her.
I give a subtle nod to Alrik. He sees it instantly, rising from his chair with the fluid efficiency I demand from my men. He meets me by the doors to the terrace, his face a neutral mask.
“We’re leaving,” I say, my voice a low growl that fogs in the frigid air.
“The car is ready, sir.”
“No,” I stop him. “You are leaving. Get back to the compound. I’m going after the girl.”
Alrik’s professional calm cracks for a fraction of a second. His gaze flicks toward the dark expanse of the gardens. “The girl? Sir, if you want her retrieved, I can have the men…”
“I’m getting her,” I cut him off. The words are granite. This is not a task to be delegated. It is a hunt, and I am the only hunter.
He studies my face, and I see the flicker of alarm in his eyes before it's professionally suppressed. He knows this is different. He gives a single, sharp nod. “Understood.” He turns and walks away, a loyal soldier following an order he knows is far from business as usual.
I vault over the stone balustrade of the terrace, landing silently on the snow-dusted lawn below. The guards Evilin hired are amateurs, their attention focused on the front gates. I melt into the shadows of a large spruce, my suit jacket a poor defenseagainst the biting cold, but I don't feel it. A fire has been lit inside me, and it burns with a singular purpose.
I find her tracks easily. The delicate prints of her discarded heels, a path of foolish hope leading away from the mansion. She’s running toward my territory. Toward home. A dark, predatory smile touches my lips. Let her run.
The Alaskan taiga is my kingdom. I move through the dense trees with a familiarity born from a lifetime of navigating this wilderness. The crunch of my shoes on the snow is the only sound, a steady rhythm in the vast, oppressive silence. The air is sharp and clean, scented with pine and the faint, maddening perfume of her fear.
It’s that scent that guides me. A mix of wildflowers from her skin and the acrid tang of panicked sweat. It’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever smelled. I quicken my pace, my long strides eating up the ground, my eyes scanning the darkness.
Then I see her. A flash of impossible yellow against the black and white of the forest. She’s a beacon, a fallen star. She stumbles, her gown catching on a thorny branch, and a sound halfway between a sob and a curse reaches me. It fuels the fire in my veins.
A part of me, the cold, calculating leader of the Deadly Seven, knows I should end this quickly. Run her down, subdue her, and take her. But another part, a darker, more ancient instinct, wants to savor this. The chase. The knowledge that she is mine to catch, that her desperate flight is only a prelude to her surrender.
“Wynter!” I call out, letting my voice ring through the trees.
